The Guilt of Forgetting
by JLo10131121
Summary: Another look into the reason Aeryn left John.


Spoilers: Just after DWTB  
Disclaimer: Farscape and all of its characters, etc. do not belong to me. They belong to Jim Henson, etc. do I really have to go on?  
Distribution: Anywhere, as long as I know where it's going.  
Author's Notes: This just came to me. It's like a lightbulb went off in my head. Ding ding ding! LOL. What if the there was more to the reason Aeryn told John she was leaving (besides the baby and what she told him)? And for those of you who don't remember that heart and gut wrenching scene from DWTB, SHAME on you! Seriously, Aeryn told John she couldn't watch him die again (to put it simply).

* * *

It has been an arn since I left John broken and hopeless in space. I've tried to block out what happened between us in the transport area. When the coin dropped and heads came up, my side, my choice, I watched a part of him die. I could see it in his eyes and I felt for him, but I couldn't _not_ leave. I needed to get away. I had loved John, my John, unreservedly with my whole heart. There was nothing I held back from him, no secrets I kept. I revealed my feelings and emotions. He'd helped me get past my reservations and peacekeeper training… And then he'd died. And I was lost. I'd never felt so lost, so unbalanced in my life.

Not when I was a child training to become a prowler pilot, not when I was deemed irreversibly contaminated, not even when I thought Crais had killed my mother. Nothing in my life had prepared me for that kind of loss. When I was training, I knew the rules, knew them by heart. They structured me and I liked them. Being deemed irreversibly contaminated was the best thing that has ever happened to me. If I wasn't, I would never have learned the lessons most peacekeepers will never even become aware of. I would never have made the friends I have, and most importantly, I would never have fallen in love with John Crichton. Even so, when I remember what I was like, what I felt two years ago, I remember feeling out of place, unsteady, but not nearly as much as I do now. I was a lot more reserved then, more open and vulnerable now.

My thoughts travel to my mother. Although I felt grief at her 'death' when Crais supposedly killed her, it was nothing compared to John's death. I hadn't let myself love her like I let myself love him. Xhalax told me something before she died. She said that those we love didn't disappear slowly from our minds, piece by piece, but all at once they were gone. She was wrong. It started a monen ago. I was going through John's notebook, the one we'd named the stars in together, and I was trying to remember the conversation we'd had the night we'd made love for the first time. And suddenly, the images were blurred. I could barely make out the soft curve of his lips when he smiled after explaining that I was his constant. It scared me for a few moments, but I concentrated and the memory became clearer. It crystallized in my mind and it was like nothing had ever happened. I could see him perfectly, that curve of his lips, the warmth in his eyes. And as I looked up from the star charts, I could see him, smell him, feel his warmth. And my heart calmed.

But then, it happened a few solar days later again when I was trying to recall a conversation we'd had about Earth. But this time, I couldn't just not see him, I couldn't hear what he said. I remembered the general idea of the conversation, but not exactly what we said, how we said it. And once again I concentrated and it came to me as it did before, but slower this time. And so this continued. Every day I would try to remember something, a sound, sight, the taste of his lips, the electric feel of his hands on my skin, but the memories grew more faint and even when I concentrated, they came slowly and only with great effort. And then one day they didn't come at all.

The memories were gone. The details weren't fuzzy. They just weren't there anymore. All I could remember was generally what we'd done and said. I remembered that the most responsive spot on his body, the back of his neck, could make him orgasm in a heartbeat, but I couldn't remember the exact touch that it required. I couldn't remember whether he liked a soft feathery caress or a gentle scrap of the teeth. I remembered that he had taught me 'hide and go seek,' but I couldn't remember how long it took him to find me the first time we'd played and the 'reward' I'd given him at being able to find a peacekeeper trained in such evasive tactics.

And then today, as I was cleaning my quarters, I tried to recall his scent, that distinct smell that screamed John, but it didn't come. At first, I didn't worry because as this had happened before, all I had to do was concentrate. But this time, I sat on my bed for over three arns, trying to remember and nothing happened. Nothing. I cried as I haven't cried since the day he died in my arms. And that was when I made my decision. Christ on a crutch, as John would say, my memories were failing me. I was failing him. I supposedly loved him and I couldn't even remember how he smelled! How could I love him when I couldn't. . .

And Crichton wasn't helping any. He looked at me with those blue, blue eyes that reminded me so much of my John, and yet they weren't. Because they weren't. The same, that is. And never would be. The man that was on Talyn with me, who shared my pain at Xhalax's death, who was with me when we went into a budong, who I made love to and with, was not the same man in front of me. And Crichton's face, his voice, he was becoming superimposed in my memories. How could I replace John? I can't. But it was happening. And that is one of many reasons why I chose to leave. Maybe someday I will be able to return. Maybe I will be able to look at him and not see another man. Maybe the pain will not be fresh like still bleeding open sores, but for now, I need to leave. I needed to leave. To remember my lover, the man that I love without seeing his twin. Goodbye John Crichton. Fly safe.


End file.
